


Breath of Life

by Kittendiamore



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Groundhog Day AU, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittendiamore/pseuds/Kittendiamore
Summary: “What would you do,” Laurent asked, “if you found out how you died?”Orlant blinked. “Be...dead?”“No,” Laurent shook his head. “What if you got a warning? What if I told you that in a few weeks, we’ll be on the border and you’ll get stabbed to death by a vicious aristocrat?”
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 673





	Breath of Life

**Author's Note:**

> It’s a Groundhog Day AU! As a result there is much major character death, but it’s never permanent. Title from the Florence and the Machine song of the same name. I think at this point you can just assume most of my titles are F+tM.
> 
> There’s also like six or seven lines in here that are stolen directly from the books.

one.

Laurent was tired. He had been on trial for hours, standing there in dirty clothes and chains while men who had already made up their minds about him argued about how awful he was. There was a point when it had stopped mattering to him. It was the end, the Regent had won. 

The worst part was Damen. Damen who had torn through his own men at the Kingsmeet to avenge Laurent’s past. Damen who had shown up here, looking both ready to fight and ready to die at Laurent’s side. Laurent had never known, or expected, love like this. He had not thought such a thing could exist to wish for. 

The black piece of cloth was revealed. It meant death. Laurent thought, it is finally over. He didn’t want to die, but he wasn’t afraid. More so, he feared Damen’s death. He used his last words to call forth Loyse, who could vouch against Kastor, who could clear Damen’s name. That was the most Laurent could do. Damen would have to save himself from here.

Damen was still fighting for Laurent. He was trying to call someone forward. “Whatever your reason,” Damen said, addressing the crowd. “You have a duty to your country. You should know that better than anyone. Your brother died protecting the King.”

It was a desperate plea. No man stepped forward. Laurent saw Damen realise this, realise that there was nothing to be done to save him.

Their eyes met. “No,” Damen whispered.

Laurent was pulled forward, pushed down to his knees. They were going to execute him here and now. Laurent kept looking at Damen, who was being heavily restrained, his entire body trying to tear himself across the room to Laurent.

“Keep fighting, Damianos,” Laurent said. The sword was raised. “Keep--”

-

two.

Laurent stumbled. He could feel himself speaking, but he had no control of the words. “I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift,” he said. He looked up, dizzy, blinking.

Was this the afterlife?

Damen was there, chained and on his knees, body rippling with barely restrained fury. The patterned tiles swirled beneath them both, a distance between them highlighted in golds, blues, reds, and greens. Laurent looked to the side; courtiers. They were in Vere. He knew where this was. He knew when this was.

Was he dead? He felt alive. He felt as if he had been transported. One moment the sword was coming down and now he was back here, in one of the worst moments of his life, staring down at his brother’s killer and trying desperately to predict what kind of plot this was.

Laurent was meant to say something else, he knew. Something about grovelling Akielons. He was silent.

Guion started to speak, after the pause grew too long. “He’s intended as a pleasure slave, but he isn’t trained. Kastor suggested that you might like to break him at your leisure.”

Laurent couldn’t look away from Damen. How is this happening?, he wanted to ask, except he couldn’t, and also Damen clearly could remember none of what was between them. Was this time travel? But how? Why?

“I’m sure that would amuse the bastard King greatly,” Laurent said. “Everyone leave.” 

There was a hesitation where noone seemed to move. “Now,” Laurent added.

The courtiers all left, Guion too, with a stammered warning that it wasn’t safe for him to be alone with the slave. Radel was the last to leave, slowly as if unsure whether he was meant to go as well. The doors closed. They were alone.

He could see Damen weighing the odds, trying to decide whether he should take a chance to attack Laurent. He would probably win but what would he do from there, he didn’t know the way. Laurent stepped forward, as close as he could get without being within Damen’s reach. He squatted down.

Damen was watching him. It felt like it had been a long time since Damen had gazed at him with such malice. Laurent tried to decide what to say. Was this truly a second chance to do things again?

Anyone could be listening at the door. Laurent lowered his voice, and spoke in Akielon. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I know who you are, Damianos.”

Damen gasped. “No,” he said.

“You are right to expect the worst from me,” Laurent told him. “I make mistakes when I’m emotional, but I won’t do that with you.”

“I’m not-- Damianos is dead,” Damen said.

“My brother is dead,” Laurent told him. “But you and I are alive. I can’t bring Auguste back, but I can do something he’d be proud of. I can let you go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Because I love you, Laurent thought, and he was fighting against the part of himself that wanted to keep Damen here so that they could fall in love again, but better this time because Laurent would not hurt him or act despicably in the process.

“You have a throne to reclaim,” Laurent said. “In about a week my uncle will ride for Chastillion. That is when I’ll release you. In the meantime, you mustn’t let anyone know that I am helping you; there are spies all through the capital and my uncle will not allow this if he finds out.”

“Your uncle,” Damen repeated. He sounded dazed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “The Regent?”

“Do not trust him,” Laurent said. “That is very important. I will be back when I can, Damianos.” Laurent stood up. “I promise that I will get you out of here.”

-

It was real. This had to be real. He was being given a second chance, a chance to do the right thing. First, he’d release Damianos, then he’d figure out how to take on his uncle. The first time around he’d been too blind, too hesitant to act properly against his uncle. The man wouldn’t expect Laurent to challenge his directly, so that’s what Laurent was going to do.

Or he’d just stab him. That would work too.

Still, Damen was his first priority. Laurent ordered his guards to lengthen Damen’s chain, and make sure he was kept well-fed and treated well. Then he spent the next few days collecting everything that Damen would need. Spare clothes, a map, some currency. 

-

“Your uncle visited me,” Damen said. He was at least discreet enough to speak quietly and in Akielon.

“Of course he did,” Laurent said. “Should I write to the Kyros of Delpha so that he can meet you at the border? I think the best route for you would be to travel down the east side of Vere. It’ll take longer for you to get to Marlas, but if Nikandros meets you just outside Acquitart then that shouldn’t matter so much.”

“He is your enemy?”

“I’m sure Nikandros wishes he were important enough for such a title.”

“I mean your uncle,” Damen said. “You told me not to trust him. He asked me about you. How you reacted to me, whether we’d-- gone to bed.”

They were sitting together in the harem, empty of all but each other. The cushions on the floor weren’t particularily comfortable, but it was worth it. Laurent had been lured in at the idea of stealing just a few moments with Damen before he was off reclaiming his kingdom. “What did you tell him?”

“That I’d barely seen you.” Damen regarded him for a long moment, and then said, “Is there something I can do?”

“No,” Laurent said. “Keep your strength up. I’ve got everything prepared for you to leave in two days. I’ll travel with you as far as Varenne, where we can get you a horse that’s your size. After that, you’ll be on your own.”

“Is there something I can do to help you,” Damen repeated, “In return for you helping me. You have enemies in the court; you mentioned spies.”

Laurent could help it. He smiled. “Are you going to spy for me, Damianos?”

Damen smiled back. He was leaning in towards Laurent, as a sunflower beckoned to the sun. It was flattering. Laurent hadn’t forgotten how easy it was for Damen to make him feel like this, like he mattered. “I’m sure I can be very unnoticeable,” he said, “standing three feet above you all.”

“I’m not sure I need a spy who exaggerates all his measurements.”

“Not all of them,” Damen’s gaze lowered to Laurent’s mouth.

Laurent thought, I love you but the you right now just likes the way I look. Then he wondered where the harm was in that? He missed his Damianos, the man he had bonded with completely, but this was the same man. Perhaps he could still have something from his old life.

Laurent kissed him. Damen lifted a hand, chains rattling across the marble, and cupped Laurent’s face. He kissed him back.

-

“Your slave seemed to be quite lonely,” Uncle said, sipping his wine nonchalantly.

“Less so now that you’ve spoken with him, uncle,” Laurent replied.

“The court is talking, Laurent,” Uncle said. “You’ll have him serve you at dinner tonight.”

Laurent didn’t want Damen to serve him at dinner. He wanted to spare him from the entertainments and the indignity. More importantly, he didn’t want Damen to remember Laurent as a part of it, a rotten pastry of a court that cared more of sex and titilation than right and wrong.

“Let them talk,” Laurent said. “They gossip about me no matter what I do.”

Uncle gave Laurent a look. Laurent thought about stabbing him. “The court wonders,” Uncle said slowly, as if he were talking to a particularily stupid child. “Whether you are spurning the generosity of the Akielon King and his offers of alliance. I will not ask you again, Nephew.”

-

“You don’t have to,” Laurent said.

“What will your uncle do if I don’t?”

“Nothing to you,” Laurent told him. “I think he just wants to see us interact before he plans his next move. He doesn’t know if I’m indifferent to you or not.”

Damen grabbed Laurent by the waist and pulled him into his lap.

“Brute,” Laurent said.

“Viper,” Damen retorted. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Laurent kissed him. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Laurent.”

“He’ll just say I’m insuboordinate and irresponsible and jeopardising the alliance,” Laurent told him. “He might try to make me do border duty again so that he can off me quietly. I can handle the slander.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You don’t have to,” Laurent said.

“I told you I wanted to help you before I left, and I leave tomorrow.”

Laurent looked at him. This man wasn’t the same devoted lover that Laurent had had in the other Damianos. But it was still Damen. Still kind and honorable and self-sacrificing. “Thank you,” Laurent said. “Just try not to make it too obvious to my uncle that I let you kiss me.”

“I won’t,” Damen replied.

“Stop smiling then,” Laurent demanded, and Damen laughed and kissed him again.

-

Damen handled everyone’s obvious gazes gracefully. Or, he simply ignored them. Uncle sat at the head of the table, with Laurent on his right, and watched with barely concealed amusement. Damen was not a very good pet. He couldn’t control his reactions to other people, he got obviously annoyed when others spoke over him or to him, and he kept pouring Laurent wine.

Laurent tugged on the little decorative chain attached to his collar. “Sit down,” Laurent said.

Damen sat, awkwardly.

He kept glancing at Lady Eris, who was very clearly being pleasured under the table by her pet’s clever hand.

“Relax,” Laurent murmured. “I won’t make you perform.”

“This is normal for your court?”

“It’s best not to think of it.” He popped a piece of meat in his mouth. 

“Nephew,” Uncle said, in that amused little voice he used to infuriate Laurent. “Are you not fond of the wine?”

He was pointing out to everyone what a bad slave Damen was; he didn’t even know his master didn’t drink wine. How funny. It was also to see what Laurent did. If he wanted to protect Damen, he’d drink the wine. If he didn’t care for Damen, he’d insult him.

Laurent looked to Damen. “I prefer not to drink wine,” he said. Then he turned back to his uncle. “I haven’t had the time to train him properly yet.”

Damen was offered a glass by another pet, and he took it and filled it with water for Laurent.

“I hope you are not so lax with all of your belongings,” Uncle said, “especially not the ones that are gifts from foreign Kings.”

Laurent, so as not to roll his eyes, picked up his goblet and took a hearty sip of water. “He’ll be a new man when you come back from your trip, Uncle.”

Uncle smiled. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

Why was he smiling? What did he have planned? Laurent took another sip.

“In fact,” Uncle continued, “I think when I get back, perhaps it’s time for you to take over some more kingly duties. You’ll be of age soon; it will be best if you start learning now rather than take everything on when you’re crowned.”

His uncle never spoke of the future like that. Laurent coughed. “Duties,” he repeated. “In Arles?”

“Well,” Uncle said, “you’ve already dismissed my attempts to send you to the border. Perhaps you’ll learn better here.”

“Laurent,” Damen said, voice urgent.

Laurent dropped his glass. He looked down. His hands were trembling.

“Laurent,” Damen said again. He had a grip on Laurent’s arm. “You need to throw up, I think you’ve been--”

“Poison!” His uncle shouted.

This was wrong. His uncle hadn’t made an attempt this early. It was after his trip, with Laurent’s horse and Torveld. Laurent looked up.

“Apprehend the slave,” Uncle said, “He has poisoned my nephew!”

“No,” Laurent murmured. They would kill Damen for this.

“Make yourself sick,” Damen urged him. He snatched someone else’s half drunk water glass and poured a heaping of salt into it, “Drink this,” he said.

A guard grabbed Damen and pulled him off the chair backwards. 

People were screaming and arguing and dramatically throwing themselves around. Laurent coughed again. Blood ripped itself from his throat and onto the table cloth. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

His uncle was still yelling about restraining Damen.

“I’m not fighting,” Damen was saying, “I won’t run. Just help him, someone, get a physician, please--”

Laurent fell from his chair.

-  
three. 

Laurent stumbled. “I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift,” he said.

“No,” he said.

Damen was on the floor, chained. The tiles were mosaics.

“This isn’t possible,” he said.

The courtiers were tittering about Damen’s size. Guion was giving Laurent an odd look.

Laurent turned and walked out of the room.

Orlant and Jord fell into place behind him. Laurent walked down the halls, to the gardens, and then from the gardens to the stables. His horse, Bisou, reared by Auguste and murdered by his uncle during the Patran hunt, was standing there. She whickered.

“What is happening?” Laurent asked her.

“Uh,” came the awkward voice of Orlant, listening to Laurent from outside the stable, “Your highness?”

“Orlant,” Laurent said. “Come in here.”

Orlant came in.

“What would you do,” Laurent asked, “if you found out how you died?”

Orlant blinked. “Be...dead?”

“No,” Laurent shook his head. “What if you got a warning? What if I told you that in a few weeks, we’ll be on the border and you’ll get stabbed to death by a vicious aristocrat?”

“...are you the aristocrat, your highness?”

“No.”

Orlant was clearly uncomfortable. “It would be an honour to die on the field for my prince,” he tried.

“How would you prevent it?”

“I wouldn’t go to the border.”

“You have to go,” Laurent said, “I’m making you.”

“Then I guess I’d kill the aristocrat first.”

Laurent looked at him. He was standing in a stable with a dead man and a dead horse. He was also dead though, so maybe it was meant to be like this. 

-

“How did you like your gift from Akielos, nephew?” Uncle asked over dinner.

It was a celebratory banquet, meant to make all the nobles and courtiers more open to the idea of an alliance with Akielos. The first time, Laurent had spent this banquet getting drunk. This time, he wasn’t willing to touch even the water.

Kill the aristocrat first, Orlant had said. Laurent looked to his uncle, who was hand-feeding morsels to Nicaise, like a particularily doting owner.

Then uncle looked over at Laurent and caught him watching. “Not eating, nephew?” he remarked. “Did you want me to feed you as well?”

Laurent grabbed his table knife, and leapt for his uncle, delivering the cutlery straight into his chest. His uncle’s eyes widened with shock, and he fought to push Laurent away. Laurent withdrew the knife and then stabbed him again and again and --

His uncle had palmed his own dinner knife, and this he planted directly in Laurent’s neck.

-

four. 

He stumbled. “I hear the King of Akielos has-- fuck!”

Laurent slammed his foot against the floor. “Everyone -- out! Now!”

The courtiers practically ran out, not even Guion tried to stay. The doors closed. Laurent stood there, breathing heavily. He’d lost. Again. Was this some kind of torture? Was Laurent destined to repeat a constant cycle of being powerless to stop his fucking uncle?

Damen was looking up at him, shocked. It wasn’t surprising considering he probably looked deranged right now. He felt a little deranged. He didn’t care. He had to figure this out.

“He was ready,” Laurent said, slowly. “He was ready for me to stab him.” 

“Uh,” Damen said.

“I’m trying to think, Damen,” Laurent said. Then he turned to Damen, because getting a second opinion from him usually worked out. “I have an enemy,” Laurent told him.

“Alright.” Damen looked pale. Probably because he was alone in a room with a deranged man, and also because he thought he was also Laurent’s enemy.

“We have been battling for quite a while,” Laurent continued. “And it looked like he had won, but then something happened that gave me an advantage. Or it should have been an advantage, except both times that I have tried to use it, he has beaten me still.”

Damen frowned thoughtfully. “Then perhaps,” he said slowly, “It is not the advantage you thought it was.”

“What if he knows?” Laurent pondered. “Could he have the same advantage? Or is he just better than me?”

“Is this a test?” Damen asked.

“I’m going to figure this out,” Laurent said. “I’ll be back. Unless he kills me again. In which case, I’ll be back here again anyway.”

“Wait!” Damen called after him as he retreated. “What does that mean?”

-

“What have you done?” Laurent hissed, barging his way into his uncle’s quarters. “What have you done to me?”

His uncle was looking up at his from his desk, looking mildly surprised. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, nephew,” he said. “Have you finally gone mad?”

“Admit it,” Laurent said. “Admit that you know. Admit that you remember.”

His uncle did not look like he remembered. He was watching Laurent with an uneasy caution. 

“Laurent,” he said, sternly. “You will stop this nonsense and calm down immediately.”

Maybe he didn’t know, Laurent thought. And then he thought, well I’m already making a scene, and so he grabbed a vase from the mantle and threw it at his uncle. It shattered brilliantly.

“I’m going to win,” Laurent said. 

“Guards!” Uncle called. The doors opened. “My nephew has lost his wits, restrain him before he hurts himself.

“I have the advantage,” Laurent told him. “Damen and I, we are going to win, and your head will be in a basket.”

One of the guards reached towards him. “Don’t touch me,” Laurent said. “I am your prince.”

He took a step away from the guard and tripped over the edge of the rug. Laurent fell back, and in a moment of clarity knew that the back of his head was about to collide with the edge of the fireplace mantle.

-  
five.

Laurent stumbled. “I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift,” he said.

He had think. He was letting the situation make him paranoid, not to mention whatever other effect repeatedly experiencing death was having on his psyche. He needed to be rational, to make a new plan. So far the longest he’d lived was the first run through, when he’d been killed at the trial. If he repeated that exactly, except for the ending, was that his best chance at defeating his uncle? He just needed to keep things the same until perhaps… the Kingsmeet? They could cut his uncle off before he got onto the protected ground, or he could prepare Damianos for what would be revealed there, or they could just not go at all. The Kingsmeet is where he had truly lost.

Laurent took a deep breath. “An Akielon grovelling on his knees,” he said, “How fitting.”

Damen had fallen in love with him once despite the rough beginning. Laurent trusted that he would do it again.

-

“My slave is to perform in the ring tonight,” Laurent told Radel. “See to it that he’s adequately prepared.”

“Yes, your highness,” Radel said.

“Oh,” Laurent added, “And procure some chalis for him; it’s his first time performing, I want him to be relaxed.”

“Of course. Very wise, indeed, your highness.”

Laurent paused. This was the part where he was meant to suggest a higher dosage, to accomodate for Damen’s higher than average body weight. He hesitated. Damen had survived the first time, astoundingly, except there had been moments that it looked as if he would lose. Surely, less chalis in his system wouldn’t change the outcome. Damen would just win a little faster and struggle less. 

“That is all,” Laurent said.

-

Damen swung his fist and it collided with Govart’s face with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered. Govart hit the ground. He was still.

Damen, breathing heavily and with violence still in his eyes, turned to Laurent, and knelt. 

Damen spoke, “I fight in your service--”

“He’s dead,” said a courtier, kneeling beside Govart and with two fingers against his neck.

“Ah,” Laurent said. This would be bad.

-

“--irresponsibility,” his uncle was saying, “has left a man, a soldier of our army, dead because you were too busy playing with men’s lives like a child who has no thought of consequences.”

Laurent kept his mouth closed. He already knew what was going to happen here. There was almost no point in listening, even. His uncle would turn the conversation into how Laurent had to go do his border duty in order to learn respect for life and his soldiers, etc etc, and doubtlessly be assassinated where no one would ever know the true culprit.

On second thought, fuck that.

“You’re right, uncle,” Laurent said. “I made a mistake. Perhaps I would learn better on the border, doing the work of soldiers, so that I can truly learn to respect them and this kingdom.”

There was a pause. His uncle, in a sign of being taken unaware that wasn’t really a sign at all, blinked. “It seems,” he said, “we finally agree on something.”

-

This wasn’t entirely catastrophic. It just meant the timeline was a little different. He’d have to work faster to get Berenger’s support, and also correspond with Torveld to arrange the loaning of the slaves. Nicaise would… Nicaise would be fine. Laurent would say something awful to him before he left for the border to make sure the boy wouldn’t try to plead to the Regent on his behalf.

This was manageable. Probably.

Except Damen no longer had any reason to go with him, or to help him, or to not run away at the first opportunity. Fuck.

No, he could work with it still. He’d make a bargain with Damen to stay with him until they reached the border, and Damen would be all honorable and stick to his side of the deal. He might still even fall in love with Laurent along the way.

Laurent sighed. He went to bed.

-

He woke up to a knife against his throat. 

Of course, Laurent thought, the moment he’d shown any interest in going to the border of his own volition meant his uncle would have to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

“Any last words?” his assassin asked, shrouded in shadows from the night.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Laurent hissed. “And go fuck your-”

six. 

He stumbled.

Same plan again, he thought, except this time he’d let Damen have the original amount of chalis. Things, apparently, had to be exact.

-

The would-be assassins were dead on the ground and Damen was contemplating his attempt to run. 

Laurent looked at Damen and laughed, and he could hear the breathiness of it. Allowing himself to be spiked with the Akielon pleasure drug was a different kind of torture this time around. It turned out the affects were worse when one actually wanted to fuck the other person in the room. He was even considering it, except there wasn’t enough time to convince Damen to fuck him and then also run away afterwards. 

And Damen needed to run, so that he could get caught, so that Laurent could save his life, so that they could go to the border together. A drop of sweat ran down Damen’s neck and Laurent stared, transfixed. He was so beautiful. Even like this, standing in a room full of men that he had killed, still breathing heavily with the exertion. Especially like this, actually.

Damen was looking at him. He had said something and was waiting for Laurent to reply. Laurent had forgotten his script. He blinked, slowly. Where were they up to?

“I am aware of the affects of the drug,” Laurent said. He was meant to have interrupted Damen when he had been talking, he realised belatedly. It was so hot in the room. He pulled his collar away from his neck a little.

Damen said something about the drug only lasting a few hours. Which was obvious. And it wasn’t like he needed a drug to notice how attractive Damen was, and how firm his muscles were. He was so tall, and strong, and Laurent had lived how many lifetimes so far and still hadn’t been fucked against a wall by him? That was a travesty. No wonder the Kingdom was falling apart when Laurent was too stupid to get Damen to--

Laurent forced his fingernails to bite into his palm, and tried to concentrate on the pain. This encounter was taking too long. He was taking too long to react.

“Think I’m going to take advantage of the situation?”

“No,” Laurent replied immediately, and then winced. He wasn’t meant to say that.

Damen frowned, a line appearing on his forehead. “You look…” he hesitated. “I don’t think there’s a fatal dose. But perhaps you should make yourself vomit.”

“It isn’t a fatal dose.”

Damen didn’t try to argue, but he also looked like he was contemplating standing there until Laurent threw up, which was both unneccessary and time consuming, and also his skin was positively unearthly in the moonlight. Laurent wanted to lick his bicep.

“Shouldn’t you be going?” Laurent asked, tetchily. Desperately. 

Damen’s frown grew more pronounced. “Do you want me to run?” he asked, suspicious.

Laurent closed his eyes. Next time, he thought, he’d just pretend to have been drugged.

Then the door the Laurent’s chambers were pushed open fully, and a little brunette head peeked in. 

“Oh,” Nicaise said, in a small voice. And then, with disdain, “You’re still alive.”

This hadn’t happened the first time. Although, if Nicaise had come this way last time, he would have coincided with Damen leaving.

Laurent felt a deep pain in his heart. “Nicase,” he said, “You came to check up on me?”

“A guard woke us up and said you’d been attacked,” Nicaise sniffed. “I only wanted to see if you were dead so I could take your stuff.”

Oh, his plan was all wrong. He had to find a way to save Nicaise. He couldn’t just run off to the border and leave him to die. That meant he couldn’t follow the plan exactly. But how could he convince Nicaise to join him on the road with the dirt and the horses? And Nicaise would hardly be safe with a bunch of mercernaries.

The sound of footsteps interrupted them. His uncle had arrived with his guards. Nicaise stood back, away from the door and into the hallway.

“Restrain the Akielon,” Uncle said. Two of the guards grabbed Damen.

“Nephew,” Uncle said, “Are you harmed?”

Laurent didn’t respond.

“The council will have to be alerted,” he continued. And then, as if he were going to go wake the old men up himself, Uncle turned to the guards, told them to kill Damen if he fought, and then walked out. Nicaise went with him.

Four guards, Laurent thought. Last time, they’d been sent out to catch Damen.

This time, they drew their swords.

Laurent took a deep breath. Damen was restrained; he would have no help this time. He grabbed a candelabra. Laurent would at least do some damage before he died, this time.

-

seven.

“I’ll arrange to have everything prepared for you,” Berenger told him.

“Thank you,” Laurent said, earnestly.

Sometimes it was hard to look at Berenger without remembering him as Auguste’s friend. He’d been the perfect mixture of quietly unobjectionable, loyal, and noble to be a friend of the crown prince. He’d helped Auguste pick out Laurent’s first proper horse. It was hard to remember, but it also made it a little easier to trust him.

“There’s one other thing,” Laurent said. “I can’t promise it will be easy, but it will be what’s right.”

Berenger gestured for him to continue.

“When I do end up getting sent to the border,” Laurent said, “I have reason to believe that Nicaise, my uncle’s pet, won’t be safe with my uncle.”

Berenger frowned. “He already isn’t safe.” 

Laurent felt a moment of relief. Berenger really was the right man for this. “I know,” he continued, “I mean that his life will be in danger. If I can smuggle him to you on my way to the border, can you keep him safe for me? You might have to lock him into a room at night, or he’ll try to run back to my uncle. He thinks he cares for him.”

Slowly, Berenger nodded. “I’ll look out for the boy,” he said. “No matter what happens.”

-

By the time they got to Nesson-Eloy, Laurent had started to feel almost optimistic.

Nicaise was safe, Orlant had been warned, and Damen was about to run across a dozen rooftops with Laurent and then he’d tease him with a warmth in his voice that Laurent would bask in.

“Can you make it?” Damen asked.

“Probably.”

Damen jumped over the balcony first and then turned back to Laurent, ready to assist him. Laurent couldn’t help it, he smiled.

He jumped.

He slipped.

-

eight.

Laurent heard the chamber doors open, and knew it would be Orlant, shoving Damen to the ground, and then they could get on with Laurent defending Damen’s escape to his uncle and uncle would force Laurent into agreeing to go the border and finally he’d be out of this hellish capital again and this time he wasn’t going to slip on a fucking railing.

Except, Laurent looked back.

Damen hadn’t been shoved to the ground this time. No, Orlant had an arm around him, supporting him. He was bleeding.

Laurent had mistimed sending his own guards after Damen. It had to have been by seconds. Damen had been stabbed.

As if in slow-motion, Laurent watched Damen fall down onto his hands and knees when Orlant failed to catch him in time.

“No,” Laurent said. He was moving for Damen before he’d even thought of it. “No, Damen.”

Laurent dropped to the ground and pulled Damen into his lap, pressing his hands desperately to the wound on his stomach. “Get a physician,” he demanded. Orlant ran.

Damen was looking up at Laurent, surprise in his eyes. His mouth was red. He was trying to speak.

“Don’t say anything,” Laurent said. His voice broke. “You’re going to be fine.”

The wound was too big, was bleeding too much. Damen was going to die. Laurent knew this but he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. He’d never realised how lucky he’d been -- always being the one to die first. What was Laurent to do in a world without Damen? Would he have to wait for his uncle to kill him again? Would the magic still work if he took a blade to his own wrists and followed Damen into death.

Teardrops fell from Laurent’s face onto Damen’s cheeks. Damen was still looking up at him. He’d lost too much blood.

“My name,” Damen whispered, voice rough. “My name is…” he coughed.

Laurent lowered his head until his lips were level with Damen’s ear. “Damianos,” he said. He wouldn’t let Damen die here, in a foreign country, as a slave. “I know you, Damianos. I--”

Damen gave one last choking breath and--

-

nine.

“I hear--” Laurent gasped, and the first thing he felt was relief. Damen was right there, in front of him. Alive and chained and breathing and-- Laurent closed his eyes. “Leave.”

His hands were trembling. 

The doors closed.

Laurent tried to control his breathing, then gave up and fell to his knees. “Ah,” he panted. “I can’t do this.”

He looked up at Damen, who was regarding him cautiously. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what Laurent said or did because it was all just going to repeat, again and again, nothing fixed. He would never win.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Laurent told him. “I can’t just-- am I being punished? How do I…”

Laurent started to fumble with his pocket, where -- on the very first night -- he’d grabbed the keys to Damen’s chains. He’d originally planned to come in here and make a big display of disgust, about how slavery was against their culture and he didn’t want some Akielon submissive following him around, and then he had planned to let the slave go. He hadn’t expected to come into this room and see Damianos, Prince-killer.

Laurent found the keys and threw them across the floor to Damen.

“Get out of here, Damianos,” he said. “You do not want your life to be in my hands. I can’t even keep myself alive.”

Damen looked at him. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know you,” Laurent told him. “You are the reason I keep trying to get things right. You are-- I wish you could help me. I wish you remembered every life we’d had. You’d know what to do, how to fix this. I just want to stop dying.”

Damen had unchained himself, but now he sat back on his heels and regarded Laurent. “You have died before?”

“Yes,” Laurent said. “And every time I die I keep coming back to tonight.”

“How many times?”

“Eight,” Laurent said. “Or seven, I think. You’re the one who died last time, but it still reset everything.”

Damen looked almost sympathetic. “The blessing of one hundred days is both a gift and a great burden,” he said. “But you must take heart -- only the truly worthy are ever given this chance.”

“You know what is happening to me?”

“Of course,” Damen replied. “It is the work of the old Gods. You do not know this?”

“I didn’t know what it was.”

“When history takes the wrong course, and someone important dies too young, the old Gods are said to intervene,” Damen told him. “If today is where you keep coming back to, then it is one hundred days from now that you must survive, and once you have, then the danger will truly be over and the blessing is fulfilled.”

“One hundred days,” Laurent repeated. Had he survived the day of his uncle’s trial, he would have succeeded the first time around. 

“You said it happened again, last time, when I died and not you?”

“Yes.”

Damen nodded. “Then we must both survive the coming days. Will you tell me everything that has happened? Perhaps if we both know, we can work out the best course of action together.”

Damen was smart, strong, and kind. Maybe he would be able to help Laurent fix things. And along the way they could save Nicaise, Orlant, Aimeric. They could save each other.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Laurent asked.

“It will work,” Damen said.

“You can’t know that.”

Damen reached out between them, and he put a hand on Laurent’s shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. “I can,” he said. “Because we are going to do this together.”

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this entirely from my phone due to internet issues, so you can only say nice things in your comments bc I went through A Lot.


End file.
